gopherit
I'm not in the book, you know.
- Joined
- Sep 21, 2003
On the Second day of Disney, Mickey gave to me:
Two rooms at Boardwalk,
And a Night at the BCV!
Cast of Characters:
Cindy (thats me, 37 yr old Mom, obsessive-compulsive planner of these trips!)
Rich (DH, 38 yrs young Dad, basically wonderful and easy going, but occasionally known to slip into the less-loved persona, Mr. How Much is This Going to Cost Me?)
Evan (9 yrs old, our deep thinker and comfort seeker)
Ryan (8 yrs old, our tireless spark on an endless thrill quest)
Caroline (4 yrs old and already has the role of drama queen mastered!)
CLICK HERE TO READ "THE FIRST DAY"
THE SECOND DAY
Morning has broken; I'm intact, lizardless, and thankful. We begin to pull ourselves together for breakfast. PS tend to be both a relief and curse to me. On the one hand, I love knowing, well in advance of our stay, that somewhere in the annals of Disney data, they have recorded our existence and plan to accommodate our hunger on a given day at a given time. On the other hand, I always find myself then anxiously checking and re-checking that data what time is it again? Are we sure that Disney still has our ressie? And at that same time? For the right number of people? And what if were late? Will the Disney Gods delete us from their database, leaving us to wail and gnash our teeth on overpriced counter service fries? And then, when you do arrive, even though the policy on PS clearly states its not truly a reservation but merely that you will be seated at next availability, you somehow feel so denied, strangely wronged if you have to wait any length of time. In the past, if we were delayed for reasons outside our control (bus issues, storms, etc), I would find myself ever-tensing, nervously fretting. I imagined being greeted by a cold Soup Nazi CM who looked at our ressie and the clock and says bluntly, "No PS for you!" And thus, something that was intended to take the worry OUT of your trip suddenly becomes the thing that puts the worry IN. But hey, I am a smarter, savvier, wiser, older (uh, scratch that last one) Disney traveler now, am I not? (Just nod yes and play along.) I have the training of this board to thank for my knowledge and Disney-planning capabilites... I suppose that makes me "DIS-functional".
ANYWAY -- I was determined that on this trip the PS would NOT get the better of me. We would make every attempt to arrive ahead of our PS as intended, but I would breathe deeply and repeat the mantra that life happens and we would simply get there when we got there, que sara (if thats how Doris Day spelled it).
So here we were, on the brink of our second PS of the trip, and not faring too well. Getting 5 kids aged 8 mos to 9 years ready for breakfast was daunting enough, but we were also trying to gather up our stuff for our check out later that morning. Finally, I hollered, Abandon Ship all packing efforts hereby cease and head for Cape May post-haste!
At Cape May, I was amazed at how expediently they seated us wow. When you travel in a herd like ours, you get amazed me when ANYTHING is done quickly! We had a wonderful table in the corner that had more than enough room for us all. The food was all very fresh and tasty. DH must have taken a leave of his senses and cholesterol level, because I think he ate his weight in sausage and bacon. Meanwhile, I could not get enough of those awesome crepe thingys they were serving. Id give you a name but they had none. I looked all over for a tag, but never did find one. Maybe I ate it. If so it was delicious and tasted like apples and cream cheese. Yum.
Anyway, the character interaction was great, except we had a problem of the Chipmunk magnitude. The night prior at Chef Mickeys, our nephew burst into tears because Chip came around on his second trip through and merely tousled his hair. He couldnt understand why that little rat with stripes didnt want to sign his book. His mother tried to explain that he HAD signed his book earlier that was Chip again, not the anticipated Dale. I then gave my dn a timely primer on Chipmunkery 101, namely that Chip has the simple, small black proboscis, whereas Dale has the huge red honker. This seemed to stick with the kids perhaps a little too well. For at Cape May, they immediately picked up on the fact that there was NO DALE -- only the black-nosed Chip. So on Chips 3rd time through, we stopped him and asked what the deal was where was his red-nosed counterpart? Chip made a motion that could only be interpreted as Chip is eating in the kitchen (that, or Im choking on an acorn, please call 911 ) However, since he didnt turn blue or pass out, Ill stay with the former, not the latter. Never did get an explanation on that one. Thankfully we had eventually obtained Dale at Chef Mickeys the night before, or we could have had an autograph riot on our hands. (That, or a brief session of forgery with the kids' books out in the hallway...)
After the meal was done and we felt positive we would sink quite solidly in SAB, we went back to the room to pack up our stuff. It was easy to take things out to the car, especailly via the patio doorway. The kids were entranced by the Al E. Gator swimming in the canal. Now there's one lizard you DEFINITELY wouldn't want to share your covers with. I had the great idea of taking the van over to the BWV that a.m. and just letting the valet handle our bags. But DH felt we should just wait on the luggage, in case we needed some of our stuff and the room wasnt ready yet, yada yada....
Words of wisdom from the Anti-Valet.
Meanwhile, we had received some strange papers under our door that night. One was, of course, yet another itinerary from Grand Gatherings. It showed that we had a brand new itinerary, one that included staying last night at the Beach Club Villas. Wow really?
I've never heard of updating an itinerary to include the things you ALREADY did. For that unnecessary piece of printed info, I think I heard yet another tree cry.
The other paper appeared to be a bill for the studio. It was rather odd in design you couldnt tell if you had been charged or credited, the way it had minus signs on it. In any case, a trip to the desk at check out would be necessary to make sure all charges were correct. So back into the cattle line I went. I was beginning to understand why the folks yesterday had those dour faces . moooo (and this time, NO exclamation point). At the desk, they quickly checked my billing info and insured all charges were correct. I also confirmed that for the rest of the day, we still had privileges at SAB. From there, I set off towards the boat dock. I figured Id catch a glimpse of where my family was stationed this a.m. at the pool, and then hop the boat to BW to check in. The family seemed to be enjoying themselves immensely at the big ship slide, and a lifeguard there was having great fun dumping megaphones full of water on folks as they went up the stairs. I could hear my kids squealing, even from the dock.
I saw lots of folks with briefcases and laptop cases and at BW I saw the reason. An IBM convention had arrived. Fortunately they formed a separate check-in line for those folks. Unlike BCV, I didn't feel like cattle here... cattle would feel much too out of place at BWV. In fact, in my bathing suit and cover up, modest tho' it may be, I felt out of place at BW. Perhaps I could mug an IBMer for his tie.
In a few minutes I was summoned to the counter. Once again, as soon as my name was found in the system, the CM began reminding me of my Grand Gathering details and handed me yes, you guessed it the remains of another dead tree. At least within my Disney Brain in a Binder, they could all be together again.
My package had also apparently arrived and was ready for pick-up (I had sent goodies in advance of our trip.) I hated the idea of rolling up to valet with our car packed like clowns in a volkswagon. Of course, I guess I had forgotten that in order for that to occur, I had to actually BRING THE CAR TO A VALET.) Yeah, like THAT's gonna happen.
Then the CM gave me great news -- while it was only about 11:30 am, our room was ready! Of course, that news was met first with joy (Wowthats great!) then with disbelief, (I cant believe it!) and then suspicion (Why? Is it the room no one else wanted?) The CM seemed a bit defensive, pointing out that it surely met my requests and it was ready end of story. There would be no other offers today. This is not to say she was rude far from it I just highlight this because some folks have commented on being given choices at the desk (such as Your room is here, but if youre willing to wait, a room in such and such section should be available instead). No such deals here today. My requests were fairly simple NS (med reasons), non-HC, upper floor, and since we were in standard view, I did also request "away from elevators" (hoping for a bit more of the landscaping / Epcot fireworks and less of the Boardwalk arch and parking circle).
The room numbers were 4081 and 4083. I admit it my heart sank a tiny bit. I'm not view-obsessed, but I was hoping for something much farther down like 41xx on the std view side. I went upstairs, sans any baggage, just to see what we had before all our munchkins invaded. The walk was short I figured well, at least we arent faced with the so-called Endless Hallway. The rooms were clean (although I admit it I wiped up the kitchen counters because it wasnt done to my liking. Splotchy.) Everything seemed accounted for. As for the view Hmmm, I thought. Not awful, certainly no dumpster view. Its well, its standard! Imagine that a standard view on standard points.
I deemed the room acceptable and claimed it for our own. I then walked back with a lilt in my step to the SAB to fill in my fellow travel mates on our good fortune. After all, this sure beat yesterday, when we waited until nearly 4 pm. It was now headed towards noon. I told DH and BIL they should take the car over to BWV and have the valet whisk our bags up to our room, now that we know the room numbers.
Heres where it gets messy.
My DH is a man of great intelligence, and his brother, also respectably bright, travels extensively for his work. Yet between the two of them, neither had a clue what to do.
Where do we go? How do we get there? What should we do with the bags? Do all the bags go in? "Where will we park?"
(repeat over and over, with furtive looks...)
And at my mention of using the valet, the dreaded inevitable question arose: But with all of our bags how much would THAT cost? Well, it's not like I didn't know that was coming -- only a matter of time. (See Cast of Characters...) I left the choice to them either drive up and pay someone to take the bags, and then enjoy an extra hour and the full use of your arms and legs at the pool with us, or drive up, self-park, and haul all of two families worth of luggage up to our 4th floor room and keep the change for themselves and a couple tubes of Ben Gay. They are big boys they can figure it out themselves. Off they went into the Great Unknown.
Meanwhile, SIL and I watched the kids at SAB. About the time the Whirling Waters War began amongst our crew (He took my spot on the wall, She swam into my area, He looked at me the typical sibling stuff you try to forget exists on vacation), we decided it was time to dry em out and head for land. The big breakfasts were beginning to wear off and the effects of the excitement and fatigue, mingled with chlorine and hunger, were only making things worse among the munchkin set. On the boat over to BWV, my eagle-eye long distance vision (the same vision that cant read an aspirin bottle for love nor money) spotted our hubbys on the distant horizon (i.e., boardwalk) ambling towards BCV. My SIL ran to the back of the boat to holler at them. Amazingly they heard us, despite the well-known fact that, at least in his family, male hearing suffers an incredible deficit unless tuned to a sporting event. (Try it, you wives and significant others of sporting men let them fall asleep in front of the TV and casually flip the channels. Law and Order nothing. Weather Channel a snore. CNN a grunt and precious little else. Lifetime DEFINITELY nothing, and possibly not even a pulse. ESPN Mmmphh Huh? Whos playing? How much time is left? Whatd I miss? Who's ahead? Absolutely amazing.)
I suppose had we failed in our attempt to get their attention by name, we could have hollered from the boat, Hes at the 40! The 30! The 20! He Could Go All The WAYYYY! Of course, that may have only prompted them to stop in at ESPN club, instead of looking for us. But I digress....
Once we got to the room ,we had to do some luggage moving (they had put it in the wrong rooms, God love 'em.) SUPPOSEDLY, as they begrudgingly admitted to us, they did use valet for most of the bags. The rest they hauled from the parking lot up to the room. DH claims the only reason he didnt use valet for all the bags was not due to frugality but because of a miscommunication between him and me. You might say he was using valet under duress and panicked. What I had actually said was that some of the items could STAY in the car. He thought I meant those items were to stay in his CARE, I guess -- as in, he could move them himself. Which was not easy, nor fun, and definitely NOT what he wanted to hear -- he had to pay valet and still hauled baggage, some of which we didn't even need. Poor DH.
We got ourselves dressed and assembled for a late lunch / early dinner at ESPN just as the bottom was starting to fall from the sky. ESPN accommodated us (well sort of we had 2 very tiny circular tables. We really could have stood 3, but they didnt offer a third, even though we saw a few unused). We had the plan of putting the kids at their own table, but that idea didnt pan out. As I mentioned earlier, fatigue and hunger had set in with the vertically challenged group, which makes children lose all sense of reason. You could have served cheese with my dds whine. When she is tired, she becomes very clingy, very Hold me! Love me! Abandon all others for ME! It's all about her. Meanwhile, Ryan didnt want to sit next to his cousin due to an earlier altercation with him, and Evan (our sports nut) just wanted a seat facing the big screen (and especially the NASCAR race). That selective hearing thing with DH is really handy when it comes to the kids I am so envious on how he can tune out their grievances in times like these. I really don't think he ever noticed what problems they were having, or that the kid-table was about to spontaneously explode into war and pieces. I think too that the kids know Mom is the more emotion-sensing party, so they probably play me like a harp.
Seeing no ready alternative, and in a concerted effort to keep peace, I sat at the other side of the kiddie table so that dd could cling, and Ryan could sit by his dad (adequately distanced from his cousin), and Evan could then sit beside me in the seat that faced the Mother Ship of all TVs that seemed to be calling him home (What the hey I figure in ten years the kids will deny they even know us, so if they want to sit next to me now, carpe kiddum.) I dont think Evan budged from that point forward, he was so in the zone with the sports TV (what can I say, it's in the gene pool.) Meanwhile, I was, by now, feeling frazzled and a bit "touched out". With all the adults at one table, and me off at a separate table with Alienated Cousin, Sport-Zombie boy, and Suction-Cup Sister stuck to me, it looked like I had been voted off the island.
The waiter (who resembled Bono thats U2, not Sonny) asked me what I wanted to drink. I think everything was starting to get to me at this point. I responded, It is pouring rain, and I have been relegated to the kiddie table. Bring me a beer. He jotted it down with a nod and a knowing, I hear ya!
By the time some of the food arrived, some of the issues began to ebb. DD ate some food, and like Popeye with spinach, she suddenly became a new and separate entity, no longer needily plastered to me. Ryan forgot his prior battle with his cousin and took a seat over by Evan, while the cousin fell asleep in his moms lap, as did his baby brother on his dads shoulder. Since it was raining, and the place wasnt exactly hopping at 4 pm (lots of empty tables), and Sports-Zombie boy was still zoning hard, we lingered over our food and drinks. We had nachos to start very tasty. I had a reuben which was also good, and quite thick. DH and BIL had the pulled pork, which they served with the sauce on the side (a great comfort for my sauce-leery DH). SIL had a chicken sandwich, I think. The kids had the usual fare (burgers, PB&J, chicken). We all really enjoyed this meal (yes, even me, for whom it started out a bit short of stellar!)
We headed back to our villa; my sister had now arrived at BWV with her 2 teenage dds. Sister's hubby couldn't make it on this trip, unfortunately -- business called. It's a shame -- Nick is such fun! But sis and the gals came anyway to share the time with each other and us before my eldest niece went away to start college. They had a preferred 1BR villa, room 5094. This is on the end of a lonely hallway and overlooks the back of the pool / slide and the canal / Swan. They said while isolated, their room was nice, no problems. I should note that my sister is a 92 OKW DVCer (from whom we learned about DVC, as she graciously shared her points with us before we bought into BWV in 99!) I imagine that the 1BR at BWV seemed rather small compared to the OKW digs she's used to -- but if so, she made no mention of it!
My sister and the girls stopped by our room. She was out to find dinner for her crew, while SIL and I had the daunting task of grocery shopping. With my DHs parting words ringing in our ears, (Call us when you get near BWV we will come and get the groceries from the car so you don't have to use the valet!!), SIL and I left. We were headed for SuperTarget, because savvy me had bought $200 worth of Target cards from Hotwire, hence saving us 20% off our food bill. But the road to Target was not an easy one. Following my map in my Disney Brain book, we traveled down the road until we came to a 50 cent toll booth. Hmmm -- didn't recall any mention of a toll. Oh well. I tossed in my 2 quarters, but the light stayed red and the cryptic message led us to believe we still hadnt done our part. Like an idiot, I tossed in two more quarters, thinking maybe the first two didnt register. Nothing. So we crept through the toll and onto the road. Then along came ANOTHER toll geez, what is it with these toll-happy Floridians? You're eating up my Target savings! And man, did I go the wrong way or what? This one cost a buck, I think. We finally get through some nasty intersections and find that red bullseye, symbolic of all we were seeking. Once in Target, we each grabbed a cart and were like something off a game show, running around and trying to minimize our time spent in the store. We were so proud of ourselves for our speed and coordination, I guess we both thought we deserved a treat, because at checkout, we discovered the same Toll House cookies from the deli section had made their way into each of our carts. Ahh, great minds think (and love chocolate) alike. (But did they have to be TOLL House?) We paid for our goods using the savings cards, then further rewarded ourselves with some Starbucks coffee, conveniently located right inside the store. Soon we were back on the road again, our cargo of chow rustling happily in its 20+ slippery sacks piled in the back of my Sienna.
Maybe it was the lively chatter. Maybe we were just too tired from the days at the pool and moving in and out twice-over. Maybe it was the caffeine -- who knows. But whatever the reason, we lost our senses.
We came to yet another toll, and after paying the buck toll, sure enough, there lay another one of those unmanned 50 cent collectors in our path. We approached warily. Getting indignant, I said, I already put $1 in the other one and it never did give us the all clear signal and this one has the same odd message! So in Thelma and Louise fashion, SIL mutters, Just go for it So we went through it, wild reckless rebels that we are. In our ensuing discussion, we then promptly missed several key turns. I confess I wasnt doing a good job of looking for the right exits.
Um, Betsy, how do you feel about Animal Kingdom? I asked.
Ok, I guess why do you ask?
Because there it is.
We arrived at the gates of a very closed and dark Animal Kingdom parking lot, wherein I whipped the van around and headed back the other way. Ooops.
As we finally approached BWV, we were, by now, down right punchy. I tried calling my "personal valet" (DH) but the only person in the room was my BIL, who was tending a sleeping baby. Apparently DH and the other kids were still at the pool. I closed my little phone and looked at SIL and said solemnly, Desperate times, desperate measures let us VALET!
The valet at BWV did the best he could to load over 20 white plastic bullseye bags onto his cart it was a scene perhaps best likened to herding 20 wet penguins onto a sliding board. Except, of course, for the 12 pk box of Corona, whose square box stuck out like a walrus, I guess. I have to wonder what the valet thinks of us tacky villa folks with our groceries. In any case, we tipped the man who unloaded us, handed the valet the car key, and then proceeded towards the elevator. Being in the hotel unfortunately didnt raise our IQs any, however. We stood and stood there waiting on the elevator, even noting that if we didnt get to our room soon, the food would be there before us. Just as the bellman approached with our laden cart, I noted to SIL, Hmm do you suppose the elevator would come faster if we actually PUSHED THE BUTTON? The bellman, climbing into the elevator with us and our cart of Corona and penguins, waited until the doors closed. After a pause, he then said softly, You know, on my way to the elevator, I was just thinking to myself, Now I wonder... why are they just standing there? We had a laugh over that. He was a jovial, comedic type guy, and when we recounted our nights events, he teased us about our imminent arrests once the police watched the video tapes of our toll booth "breakaway". We walked down to the room and he proceeded to unload our wares.
Just as he was putting the last bag into the room, who should coming dripping in but poor DH.
DH's face said, Valet Betrayal! all over it. It was like I had cheated on him with the bellman. And of course, tipping the guy for his "services rendered" somehow made it feel even more tawdry... (What can I say, hon -- he was "there for me".)
We began putting away groceries, unpacking ,etc. We were all still fairly full of ESPN chow, so just some light snacks were had before putting the kids down for bed. We wanted them (and us!) to get a good nights sleep since the next day would be a park day at MGM. We set up sleeping arrangements such that SIL/BIL and their sons had the studio. SIL had gotten a crib from ABBF. There was great confusion at the front desk about this, and SIL was hot under the collar about the whole deal. Her frustration centered with the BWV desk, not ABBF. According to other threads, it's not the first time (nor probably last) that an ABBF crib has gone MIA, but thankfully, the front desk did, at last, locate it before nightfall. Actually, it got so crazy that before it was over, we nearly had 2 cribs, as BW sent one up also. The crib from ABBF, by the way, was very nice I think it cost them $75 for the week. The Disney one didnt look nearly as nice -- we sent it back.
As the saying goes if baby aint happy, aint NOBODY happy.
Meanwhile, in the 1 br, our 2 boys were to sleep on the pull-out queen bed, and dh, me, and our dd were to sleep on the king bed in the master bedroom. (DD ends up in our bed anyway in new places, so while I didnt relish another gymnastics exhibition across my torso and face, I didnt feel like making a bed or pallet up either, only to see it go unused.) I made the taco meat that night so that for dinner the next day, we could just nuke it. I then put together our bag for the next day (ponchos, camera, radios, passes) and laid out clothes. I was feeling a bit spent, but was hoping that a trip to MGM was just the pick-me-upper I needed. I am a firm believer that no one can make you feel a certain way you have to allow it to happen. Sometimes, I still let peoples comments get to me, though. Because I had done all the planning, I think too I felt all the pressure to make sure nothing would go awry. Up to 13 folks over a 12 day period and nothing ever go wrong? Thats some seriously high psi, folks.
Now DH will tell you Im a control freak, and that I bring this anguish onto myself. While I wont wholly disagree (I do want things done, and done at perhaps a higher level of performance than most folks might), I will add that no one in that group has ever fought me for the title. Its not like I was grabbing itineraries planned by others and changing them, or snatching the phone from someone who was in the middle of making PS there were no other plans, and no one else was making ressies. No one else had even looked at a park map until that night. As I cleaned up around the living room area, I noticed that someone had actually left an MGM map on the coffee table, as if to say, Behold -- I unfolded, therefore I planned. I had our reservations and such fairly well established by June and no one took much interest in reviewing them. In fact, I was a bit of a spectacle, toting my Disney Brain around all summer they asked if I ever did anything else with my time, how many trees did I kill making the book (far less than Grand Gatherings has, I assure you) , etc. etc. No big deal I wear the title of Disney Obsessed like a moniker of honor. I guess Im just amazed that they wouldnt WANT to know any details, and sooner than during the actual trip. Oh well to each their own. If they were happy, I should be happy too, right?
Correction I should be happy whether they were happy or not but that sounds harsh, doesn't it.
Yawn.
At this point, it was too late to think about anything but the view from inside of my eyelids and a soft pillow. I wrapped up the taco meat and fridged it, cleaned up the dishware, and crawled into the bed between Twister Mama and her Anti-Valet Daddy. My head hit the pillow at 1 a.m, but I'm pretty sure I was asleep by 12:59.
COMING NEXT: THE THIRD DAY ... (click here!)
You picked a Prime Time to Leave me: When your Magic leaves you, who you gonna call?
Two rooms at Boardwalk,
And a Night at the BCV!
Cast of Characters:
Cindy (thats me, 37 yr old Mom, obsessive-compulsive planner of these trips!)
Rich (DH, 38 yrs young Dad, basically wonderful and easy going, but occasionally known to slip into the less-loved persona, Mr. How Much is This Going to Cost Me?)
Evan (9 yrs old, our deep thinker and comfort seeker)
Ryan (8 yrs old, our tireless spark on an endless thrill quest)
Caroline (4 yrs old and already has the role of drama queen mastered!)
CLICK HERE TO READ "THE FIRST DAY"
THE SECOND DAY
Morning has broken; I'm intact, lizardless, and thankful. We begin to pull ourselves together for breakfast. PS tend to be both a relief and curse to me. On the one hand, I love knowing, well in advance of our stay, that somewhere in the annals of Disney data, they have recorded our existence and plan to accommodate our hunger on a given day at a given time. On the other hand, I always find myself then anxiously checking and re-checking that data what time is it again? Are we sure that Disney still has our ressie? And at that same time? For the right number of people? And what if were late? Will the Disney Gods delete us from their database, leaving us to wail and gnash our teeth on overpriced counter service fries? And then, when you do arrive, even though the policy on PS clearly states its not truly a reservation but merely that you will be seated at next availability, you somehow feel so denied, strangely wronged if you have to wait any length of time. In the past, if we were delayed for reasons outside our control (bus issues, storms, etc), I would find myself ever-tensing, nervously fretting. I imagined being greeted by a cold Soup Nazi CM who looked at our ressie and the clock and says bluntly, "No PS for you!" And thus, something that was intended to take the worry OUT of your trip suddenly becomes the thing that puts the worry IN. But hey, I am a smarter, savvier, wiser, older (uh, scratch that last one) Disney traveler now, am I not? (Just nod yes and play along.) I have the training of this board to thank for my knowledge and Disney-planning capabilites... I suppose that makes me "DIS-functional".
ANYWAY -- I was determined that on this trip the PS would NOT get the better of me. We would make every attempt to arrive ahead of our PS as intended, but I would breathe deeply and repeat the mantra that life happens and we would simply get there when we got there, que sara (if thats how Doris Day spelled it).
So here we were, on the brink of our second PS of the trip, and not faring too well. Getting 5 kids aged 8 mos to 9 years ready for breakfast was daunting enough, but we were also trying to gather up our stuff for our check out later that morning. Finally, I hollered, Abandon Ship all packing efforts hereby cease and head for Cape May post-haste!
At Cape May, I was amazed at how expediently they seated us wow. When you travel in a herd like ours, you get amazed me when ANYTHING is done quickly! We had a wonderful table in the corner that had more than enough room for us all. The food was all very fresh and tasty. DH must have taken a leave of his senses and cholesterol level, because I think he ate his weight in sausage and bacon. Meanwhile, I could not get enough of those awesome crepe thingys they were serving. Id give you a name but they had none. I looked all over for a tag, but never did find one. Maybe I ate it. If so it was delicious and tasted like apples and cream cheese. Yum.
Anyway, the character interaction was great, except we had a problem of the Chipmunk magnitude. The night prior at Chef Mickeys, our nephew burst into tears because Chip came around on his second trip through and merely tousled his hair. He couldnt understand why that little rat with stripes didnt want to sign his book. His mother tried to explain that he HAD signed his book earlier that was Chip again, not the anticipated Dale. I then gave my dn a timely primer on Chipmunkery 101, namely that Chip has the simple, small black proboscis, whereas Dale has the huge red honker. This seemed to stick with the kids perhaps a little too well. For at Cape May, they immediately picked up on the fact that there was NO DALE -- only the black-nosed Chip. So on Chips 3rd time through, we stopped him and asked what the deal was where was his red-nosed counterpart? Chip made a motion that could only be interpreted as Chip is eating in the kitchen (that, or Im choking on an acorn, please call 911 ) However, since he didnt turn blue or pass out, Ill stay with the former, not the latter. Never did get an explanation on that one. Thankfully we had eventually obtained Dale at Chef Mickeys the night before, or we could have had an autograph riot on our hands. (That, or a brief session of forgery with the kids' books out in the hallway...)
After the meal was done and we felt positive we would sink quite solidly in SAB, we went back to the room to pack up our stuff. It was easy to take things out to the car, especailly via the patio doorway. The kids were entranced by the Al E. Gator swimming in the canal. Now there's one lizard you DEFINITELY wouldn't want to share your covers with. I had the great idea of taking the van over to the BWV that a.m. and just letting the valet handle our bags. But DH felt we should just wait on the luggage, in case we needed some of our stuff and the room wasnt ready yet, yada yada....
Words of wisdom from the Anti-Valet.
Meanwhile, we had received some strange papers under our door that night. One was, of course, yet another itinerary from Grand Gatherings. It showed that we had a brand new itinerary, one that included staying last night at the Beach Club Villas. Wow really?
I've never heard of updating an itinerary to include the things you ALREADY did. For that unnecessary piece of printed info, I think I heard yet another tree cry.
The other paper appeared to be a bill for the studio. It was rather odd in design you couldnt tell if you had been charged or credited, the way it had minus signs on it. In any case, a trip to the desk at check out would be necessary to make sure all charges were correct. So back into the cattle line I went. I was beginning to understand why the folks yesterday had those dour faces . moooo (and this time, NO exclamation point). At the desk, they quickly checked my billing info and insured all charges were correct. I also confirmed that for the rest of the day, we still had privileges at SAB. From there, I set off towards the boat dock. I figured Id catch a glimpse of where my family was stationed this a.m. at the pool, and then hop the boat to BW to check in. The family seemed to be enjoying themselves immensely at the big ship slide, and a lifeguard there was having great fun dumping megaphones full of water on folks as they went up the stairs. I could hear my kids squealing, even from the dock.
I saw lots of folks with briefcases and laptop cases and at BW I saw the reason. An IBM convention had arrived. Fortunately they formed a separate check-in line for those folks. Unlike BCV, I didn't feel like cattle here... cattle would feel much too out of place at BWV. In fact, in my bathing suit and cover up, modest tho' it may be, I felt out of place at BW. Perhaps I could mug an IBMer for his tie.
In a few minutes I was summoned to the counter. Once again, as soon as my name was found in the system, the CM began reminding me of my Grand Gathering details and handed me yes, you guessed it the remains of another dead tree. At least within my Disney Brain in a Binder, they could all be together again.
My package had also apparently arrived and was ready for pick-up (I had sent goodies in advance of our trip.) I hated the idea of rolling up to valet with our car packed like clowns in a volkswagon. Of course, I guess I had forgotten that in order for that to occur, I had to actually BRING THE CAR TO A VALET.) Yeah, like THAT's gonna happen.
Then the CM gave me great news -- while it was only about 11:30 am, our room was ready! Of course, that news was met first with joy (Wowthats great!) then with disbelief, (I cant believe it!) and then suspicion (Why? Is it the room no one else wanted?) The CM seemed a bit defensive, pointing out that it surely met my requests and it was ready end of story. There would be no other offers today. This is not to say she was rude far from it I just highlight this because some folks have commented on being given choices at the desk (such as Your room is here, but if youre willing to wait, a room in such and such section should be available instead). No such deals here today. My requests were fairly simple NS (med reasons), non-HC, upper floor, and since we were in standard view, I did also request "away from elevators" (hoping for a bit more of the landscaping / Epcot fireworks and less of the Boardwalk arch and parking circle).
The room numbers were 4081 and 4083. I admit it my heart sank a tiny bit. I'm not view-obsessed, but I was hoping for something much farther down like 41xx on the std view side. I went upstairs, sans any baggage, just to see what we had before all our munchkins invaded. The walk was short I figured well, at least we arent faced with the so-called Endless Hallway. The rooms were clean (although I admit it I wiped up the kitchen counters because it wasnt done to my liking. Splotchy.) Everything seemed accounted for. As for the view Hmmm, I thought. Not awful, certainly no dumpster view. Its well, its standard! Imagine that a standard view on standard points.
I deemed the room acceptable and claimed it for our own. I then walked back with a lilt in my step to the SAB to fill in my fellow travel mates on our good fortune. After all, this sure beat yesterday, when we waited until nearly 4 pm. It was now headed towards noon. I told DH and BIL they should take the car over to BWV and have the valet whisk our bags up to our room, now that we know the room numbers.
Heres where it gets messy.
My DH is a man of great intelligence, and his brother, also respectably bright, travels extensively for his work. Yet between the two of them, neither had a clue what to do.
Where do we go? How do we get there? What should we do with the bags? Do all the bags go in? "Where will we park?"
(repeat over and over, with furtive looks...)
And at my mention of using the valet, the dreaded inevitable question arose: But with all of our bags how much would THAT cost? Well, it's not like I didn't know that was coming -- only a matter of time. (See Cast of Characters...) I left the choice to them either drive up and pay someone to take the bags, and then enjoy an extra hour and the full use of your arms and legs at the pool with us, or drive up, self-park, and haul all of two families worth of luggage up to our 4th floor room and keep the change for themselves and a couple tubes of Ben Gay. They are big boys they can figure it out themselves. Off they went into the Great Unknown.
Meanwhile, SIL and I watched the kids at SAB. About the time the Whirling Waters War began amongst our crew (He took my spot on the wall, She swam into my area, He looked at me the typical sibling stuff you try to forget exists on vacation), we decided it was time to dry em out and head for land. The big breakfasts were beginning to wear off and the effects of the excitement and fatigue, mingled with chlorine and hunger, were only making things worse among the munchkin set. On the boat over to BWV, my eagle-eye long distance vision (the same vision that cant read an aspirin bottle for love nor money) spotted our hubbys on the distant horizon (i.e., boardwalk) ambling towards BCV. My SIL ran to the back of the boat to holler at them. Amazingly they heard us, despite the well-known fact that, at least in his family, male hearing suffers an incredible deficit unless tuned to a sporting event. (Try it, you wives and significant others of sporting men let them fall asleep in front of the TV and casually flip the channels. Law and Order nothing. Weather Channel a snore. CNN a grunt and precious little else. Lifetime DEFINITELY nothing, and possibly not even a pulse. ESPN Mmmphh Huh? Whos playing? How much time is left? Whatd I miss? Who's ahead? Absolutely amazing.)
I suppose had we failed in our attempt to get their attention by name, we could have hollered from the boat, Hes at the 40! The 30! The 20! He Could Go All The WAYYYY! Of course, that may have only prompted them to stop in at ESPN club, instead of looking for us. But I digress....
Once we got to the room ,we had to do some luggage moving (they had put it in the wrong rooms, God love 'em.) SUPPOSEDLY, as they begrudgingly admitted to us, they did use valet for most of the bags. The rest they hauled from the parking lot up to the room. DH claims the only reason he didnt use valet for all the bags was not due to frugality but because of a miscommunication between him and me. You might say he was using valet under duress and panicked. What I had actually said was that some of the items could STAY in the car. He thought I meant those items were to stay in his CARE, I guess -- as in, he could move them himself. Which was not easy, nor fun, and definitely NOT what he wanted to hear -- he had to pay valet and still hauled baggage, some of which we didn't even need. Poor DH.
We got ourselves dressed and assembled for a late lunch / early dinner at ESPN just as the bottom was starting to fall from the sky. ESPN accommodated us (well sort of we had 2 very tiny circular tables. We really could have stood 3, but they didnt offer a third, even though we saw a few unused). We had the plan of putting the kids at their own table, but that idea didnt pan out. As I mentioned earlier, fatigue and hunger had set in with the vertically challenged group, which makes children lose all sense of reason. You could have served cheese with my dds whine. When she is tired, she becomes very clingy, very Hold me! Love me! Abandon all others for ME! It's all about her. Meanwhile, Ryan didnt want to sit next to his cousin due to an earlier altercation with him, and Evan (our sports nut) just wanted a seat facing the big screen (and especially the NASCAR race). That selective hearing thing with DH is really handy when it comes to the kids I am so envious on how he can tune out their grievances in times like these. I really don't think he ever noticed what problems they were having, or that the kid-table was about to spontaneously explode into war and pieces. I think too that the kids know Mom is the more emotion-sensing party, so they probably play me like a harp.
Seeing no ready alternative, and in a concerted effort to keep peace, I sat at the other side of the kiddie table so that dd could cling, and Ryan could sit by his dad (adequately distanced from his cousin), and Evan could then sit beside me in the seat that faced the Mother Ship of all TVs that seemed to be calling him home (What the hey I figure in ten years the kids will deny they even know us, so if they want to sit next to me now, carpe kiddum.) I dont think Evan budged from that point forward, he was so in the zone with the sports TV (what can I say, it's in the gene pool.) Meanwhile, I was, by now, feeling frazzled and a bit "touched out". With all the adults at one table, and me off at a separate table with Alienated Cousin, Sport-Zombie boy, and Suction-Cup Sister stuck to me, it looked like I had been voted off the island.
The waiter (who resembled Bono thats U2, not Sonny) asked me what I wanted to drink. I think everything was starting to get to me at this point. I responded, It is pouring rain, and I have been relegated to the kiddie table. Bring me a beer. He jotted it down with a nod and a knowing, I hear ya!
By the time some of the food arrived, some of the issues began to ebb. DD ate some food, and like Popeye with spinach, she suddenly became a new and separate entity, no longer needily plastered to me. Ryan forgot his prior battle with his cousin and took a seat over by Evan, while the cousin fell asleep in his moms lap, as did his baby brother on his dads shoulder. Since it was raining, and the place wasnt exactly hopping at 4 pm (lots of empty tables), and Sports-Zombie boy was still zoning hard, we lingered over our food and drinks. We had nachos to start very tasty. I had a reuben which was also good, and quite thick. DH and BIL had the pulled pork, which they served with the sauce on the side (a great comfort for my sauce-leery DH). SIL had a chicken sandwich, I think. The kids had the usual fare (burgers, PB&J, chicken). We all really enjoyed this meal (yes, even me, for whom it started out a bit short of stellar!)
We headed back to our villa; my sister had now arrived at BWV with her 2 teenage dds. Sister's hubby couldn't make it on this trip, unfortunately -- business called. It's a shame -- Nick is such fun! But sis and the gals came anyway to share the time with each other and us before my eldest niece went away to start college. They had a preferred 1BR villa, room 5094. This is on the end of a lonely hallway and overlooks the back of the pool / slide and the canal / Swan. They said while isolated, their room was nice, no problems. I should note that my sister is a 92 OKW DVCer (from whom we learned about DVC, as she graciously shared her points with us before we bought into BWV in 99!) I imagine that the 1BR at BWV seemed rather small compared to the OKW digs she's used to -- but if so, she made no mention of it!
My sister and the girls stopped by our room. She was out to find dinner for her crew, while SIL and I had the daunting task of grocery shopping. With my DHs parting words ringing in our ears, (Call us when you get near BWV we will come and get the groceries from the car so you don't have to use the valet!!), SIL and I left. We were headed for SuperTarget, because savvy me had bought $200 worth of Target cards from Hotwire, hence saving us 20% off our food bill. But the road to Target was not an easy one. Following my map in my Disney Brain book, we traveled down the road until we came to a 50 cent toll booth. Hmmm -- didn't recall any mention of a toll. Oh well. I tossed in my 2 quarters, but the light stayed red and the cryptic message led us to believe we still hadnt done our part. Like an idiot, I tossed in two more quarters, thinking maybe the first two didnt register. Nothing. So we crept through the toll and onto the road. Then along came ANOTHER toll geez, what is it with these toll-happy Floridians? You're eating up my Target savings! And man, did I go the wrong way or what? This one cost a buck, I think. We finally get through some nasty intersections and find that red bullseye, symbolic of all we were seeking. Once in Target, we each grabbed a cart and were like something off a game show, running around and trying to minimize our time spent in the store. We were so proud of ourselves for our speed and coordination, I guess we both thought we deserved a treat, because at checkout, we discovered the same Toll House cookies from the deli section had made their way into each of our carts. Ahh, great minds think (and love chocolate) alike. (But did they have to be TOLL House?) We paid for our goods using the savings cards, then further rewarded ourselves with some Starbucks coffee, conveniently located right inside the store. Soon we were back on the road again, our cargo of chow rustling happily in its 20+ slippery sacks piled in the back of my Sienna.
Maybe it was the lively chatter. Maybe we were just too tired from the days at the pool and moving in and out twice-over. Maybe it was the caffeine -- who knows. But whatever the reason, we lost our senses.
We came to yet another toll, and after paying the buck toll, sure enough, there lay another one of those unmanned 50 cent collectors in our path. We approached warily. Getting indignant, I said, I already put $1 in the other one and it never did give us the all clear signal and this one has the same odd message! So in Thelma and Louise fashion, SIL mutters, Just go for it So we went through it, wild reckless rebels that we are. In our ensuing discussion, we then promptly missed several key turns. I confess I wasnt doing a good job of looking for the right exits.
Um, Betsy, how do you feel about Animal Kingdom? I asked.
Ok, I guess why do you ask?
Because there it is.
We arrived at the gates of a very closed and dark Animal Kingdom parking lot, wherein I whipped the van around and headed back the other way. Ooops.
As we finally approached BWV, we were, by now, down right punchy. I tried calling my "personal valet" (DH) but the only person in the room was my BIL, who was tending a sleeping baby. Apparently DH and the other kids were still at the pool. I closed my little phone and looked at SIL and said solemnly, Desperate times, desperate measures let us VALET!
The valet at BWV did the best he could to load over 20 white plastic bullseye bags onto his cart it was a scene perhaps best likened to herding 20 wet penguins onto a sliding board. Except, of course, for the 12 pk box of Corona, whose square box stuck out like a walrus, I guess. I have to wonder what the valet thinks of us tacky villa folks with our groceries. In any case, we tipped the man who unloaded us, handed the valet the car key, and then proceeded towards the elevator. Being in the hotel unfortunately didnt raise our IQs any, however. We stood and stood there waiting on the elevator, even noting that if we didnt get to our room soon, the food would be there before us. Just as the bellman approached with our laden cart, I noted to SIL, Hmm do you suppose the elevator would come faster if we actually PUSHED THE BUTTON? The bellman, climbing into the elevator with us and our cart of Corona and penguins, waited until the doors closed. After a pause, he then said softly, You know, on my way to the elevator, I was just thinking to myself, Now I wonder... why are they just standing there? We had a laugh over that. He was a jovial, comedic type guy, and when we recounted our nights events, he teased us about our imminent arrests once the police watched the video tapes of our toll booth "breakaway". We walked down to the room and he proceeded to unload our wares.
Just as he was putting the last bag into the room, who should coming dripping in but poor DH.
DH's face said, Valet Betrayal! all over it. It was like I had cheated on him with the bellman. And of course, tipping the guy for his "services rendered" somehow made it feel even more tawdry... (What can I say, hon -- he was "there for me".)
We began putting away groceries, unpacking ,etc. We were all still fairly full of ESPN chow, so just some light snacks were had before putting the kids down for bed. We wanted them (and us!) to get a good nights sleep since the next day would be a park day at MGM. We set up sleeping arrangements such that SIL/BIL and their sons had the studio. SIL had gotten a crib from ABBF. There was great confusion at the front desk about this, and SIL was hot under the collar about the whole deal. Her frustration centered with the BWV desk, not ABBF. According to other threads, it's not the first time (nor probably last) that an ABBF crib has gone MIA, but thankfully, the front desk did, at last, locate it before nightfall. Actually, it got so crazy that before it was over, we nearly had 2 cribs, as BW sent one up also. The crib from ABBF, by the way, was very nice I think it cost them $75 for the week. The Disney one didnt look nearly as nice -- we sent it back.
As the saying goes if baby aint happy, aint NOBODY happy.
Meanwhile, in the 1 br, our 2 boys were to sleep on the pull-out queen bed, and dh, me, and our dd were to sleep on the king bed in the master bedroom. (DD ends up in our bed anyway in new places, so while I didnt relish another gymnastics exhibition across my torso and face, I didnt feel like making a bed or pallet up either, only to see it go unused.) I made the taco meat that night so that for dinner the next day, we could just nuke it. I then put together our bag for the next day (ponchos, camera, radios, passes) and laid out clothes. I was feeling a bit spent, but was hoping that a trip to MGM was just the pick-me-upper I needed. I am a firm believer that no one can make you feel a certain way you have to allow it to happen. Sometimes, I still let peoples comments get to me, though. Because I had done all the planning, I think too I felt all the pressure to make sure nothing would go awry. Up to 13 folks over a 12 day period and nothing ever go wrong? Thats some seriously high psi, folks.
Now DH will tell you Im a control freak, and that I bring this anguish onto myself. While I wont wholly disagree (I do want things done, and done at perhaps a higher level of performance than most folks might), I will add that no one in that group has ever fought me for the title. Its not like I was grabbing itineraries planned by others and changing them, or snatching the phone from someone who was in the middle of making PS there were no other plans, and no one else was making ressies. No one else had even looked at a park map until that night. As I cleaned up around the living room area, I noticed that someone had actually left an MGM map on the coffee table, as if to say, Behold -- I unfolded, therefore I planned. I had our reservations and such fairly well established by June and no one took much interest in reviewing them. In fact, I was a bit of a spectacle, toting my Disney Brain around all summer they asked if I ever did anything else with my time, how many trees did I kill making the book (far less than Grand Gatherings has, I assure you) , etc. etc. No big deal I wear the title of Disney Obsessed like a moniker of honor. I guess Im just amazed that they wouldnt WANT to know any details, and sooner than during the actual trip. Oh well to each their own. If they were happy, I should be happy too, right?
Correction I should be happy whether they were happy or not but that sounds harsh, doesn't it.
Yawn.
At this point, it was too late to think about anything but the view from inside of my eyelids and a soft pillow. I wrapped up the taco meat and fridged it, cleaned up the dishware, and crawled into the bed between Twister Mama and her Anti-Valet Daddy. My head hit the pillow at 1 a.m, but I'm pretty sure I was asleep by 12:59.
COMING NEXT: THE THIRD DAY ... (click here!)
You picked a Prime Time to Leave me: When your Magic leaves you, who you gonna call?
